


Hoist By His Own Petard

by JJJunky



Category: Simon and Simon (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJunky/pseuds/JJJunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and AJ are forced to confront a madman, back for revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoist By His Own Petard

Hoist By His Own Petard  
By JJJunky

 

Rick Simon slapped his thigh in frustration. A few more inches and the ball would have been out of the park, tying the game. Instead, Tony Gynn's blast was just a long out ending the 9th inning. Rising to his feet, Rick stretched and let his gaze scan the meager crowd. Ever since the San Diego Padres' owners had started to economize by peddling their high-salaried players, attendance had diminished. The spirit of the ball club and its fans had vanished with them.

With one hand he pulled his truck keys out of a tight jean pocket while tapping his brother on the shoulder with the other, "Let's go AJ, game's over."

"All right," AJ reluctantly agreed rising to his feet. Despite his acquiescence, his eyes continued to search the faces of the few fans who had lingered.

Noticing the younger man's preoccupation, Rick asked, "Is something wrong?'

"No." His steps slow and hesitant as he followed his brother from the stadium to the battered red truck, AJ amended, "I'm not sure."

"That certainly clarifies things," Rick observed. Unlocking the passenger door, he circled the hood to the driver's side.

His gaze sweeping the parking lot, AJ pleaded, "Could we just go home?"

Wondering what had happened to the happy, cheering man who had sat beside him in the early innings of the Padres-Cubs game, Rick turned on the ignition and slipped the truck into gear. Conversation was one-sided on the short ride home. By the time he pulled into AJ's driveway, Rick wasn't sure if he was more frustrated or angry.

Foregoing the quiet evening at his houseboat that he had originally planned, he followed AJ into the house. Slamming the door behind him, he demanded, "Would you mind telling me what's going on?"

"In a minute," stalled AJ, reaching for the telephone on the counter.

"Who are you calling?"

"Elena Monteros."

Rick had never liked listening to half a phone conversation. As he watched first sadness then fear wash across his brother's face, he gritted his teeth in annoyance. What was being said to cause such a display of emotion?

AJ's hand was shaking so badly that his first attempt to replace the receiver failed. When a second try crashed the plastic onto the counter so hard it almost cracked, Rick reached out and guided the receiver back to its destination.

"What's wrong?"

Eyes staring into nothing, AJ replied, "Elena's dead."

A picture of the dark haired, dark eyed Salvadorian girl flashed across Rick's mind. Despite the threat of death squads and the murder of her youngest brother, Elena had continued to fight for her people. It had appeared as though her battle had come to an end with the recent resolution of the Salvadorian civil war. Apparently, fate had denied her the time to bask in the victory.

"Did they say how she died?" Rick gently pressed.

"They didn't have to," whispered AJ. A shudder shook the muscular body. "He was at the game today."

Feeling as though he were talking to a frightened child, Rick urged, "Who was at the game?"

"El Lobo Negro."

"The Black Wolf?" Rick pulled away. He didn't want the anger and disgust he felt to adversely affect his brother. "He's dead."

"The father, maybe, not the son," qualified AJ focusing on the aqua blue eyes. "I saw him, Rick. Believe me, that's one face I'll never forget."

"You killed him!"

"Did I? Did you ever check his pulse?"

Memories of that horrible day surfaced. As if he were watching a movie, Rick saw Miquel, Elena's brother, ripped apart by bullets from a semi-automatic. Reeling from the horror of the wanton murder, he watched himself turn as if in slow motion when a gun discharged behind him. He saw a bloody figure he recognized as his brother gun down an unknown man. Marine training kept them alive when Rick emptied his own gun into Aguilar. The replay continued with Elena sobbing over her brother's body. A sickening dread gripped him as Rick realized that in his desire to get AJ to a hospital, he had only checked Miquel Monteros before placing him in the back of the truck. He had left the other three bodies for the buzzards or the police, whichever arrived first. With less certainty in his voice, Rick repeated, "You killed him."

"Then he must have risen from the dead," said AJ in frustration, "because he was at Murphy Stadium."

"I know how to prove you're wrong," Rick declared, pulling the telephone closer. Lifting the receiver to his ear, he pressed the buttons. After a short pause, he requested, "Lieutenant Marsh, please."

* * * *

Though the TV was on, Rick could not have said what was playing. While he pretended to watch an old movie, AJ sat in a chair supposedly reading a book. Yet, not a single page had been turned in the two hours since Rick had called Abby. The waiting was taking a toll on both their nerves.

When the doorbell rang, Rick grabbed the phone. The steady hum of the dial tone and another ring of the bell identified his mistake. Embarrassed, he replaced the receiver before going to the door. "Who is it?"

"Lieutenant Marsh."

Though puzzled that the officer had decided to give her report in person rather than over the phone, Rick opened the door. "What did you find out?"

Ignoring the rudeness of the greeting, Abby entered the kitchen. Carefully closing and locking the door behind her, she walked slowly into the living room where she sat on the couch facing AJ.

"Well?" Rick urged, following in her wake.

Gentle eyes resting on AJ's tormented face, Abby said, "According to the police report the officers found only two bodies when they arrived at the old Mitchell Farm. One was identified as Jed Wilson, the other as the senior Aguilar."

"Then he did survive," whispered AJ. While his body might be in San Diego, it was obvious that AJ's mind was in the desert where he had almost been killed.

"It's possible," Abby conceded. "It's also possible the body was dragged off by predators."

Shaking his head, AJ demanded, "How did Elena Monteros die?'

"Her thighs had been burned by cigarettes," Abby reluctantly admitted. "She'd been raped, and her tongue had been cut out."

"What about her hands?"

Though her eyes sought the printed words on the paper of the report she had brought, it was obvious Abby already knew the answer. "They'd been slashed."

"Death squad tactics, his tactics," AJ bitterly reminded her.

Desperately fighting the scenario his brother presented, Rick protested, "Why would he come back now? Why wait so long? Their war is over."

"This is a private war," AJ explained, "against you and me. Why he waited, I don't know. Maybe he needed time to recover from his wound. Does it really matter? He's here now."

Closing the folder containing the report, Abby said, "I already sent Nixon and a couple of uniforms over to take Cecelia into protective custody. I'd like you two to join her."

"For how long?" asked AJ. Staring out at the peaceful canal, he looked as though the answer made no difference to him.

"Until we catch this maniac."

"If we both go into hiding," Rick pointed out, "you'll never catch him. He'll climb back under his rock. AJ, I think you should go look after Mom."

A small metal vase crashed against the wall making Rick and Abby jump. Rising to his feet, AJ stood over his brother. His face red with rage, he snapped, "You expect me to leave you alone with that psycho on the loose?"

"Why should we both be targets?" demanded Rick not intimated by his brother's anger.

Fighting for control, AJ turned away. In a voice that was barely loud enough to be heard, he asked, "Do you really think he'd be satisfied with your death?"

"Maybe," Rick hesitantly proclaimed. "I was the one who killed his father."

"And I almost killed him," AJ pointed out.

Abby rose to her feet to confront the younger Simon. "What are you saying?"

"He wants both of us and he won't care who he hurts to get us." AJ looked away from the penetrating brown eyes.

"You can't just give up," protested Abby.

"We're not giving up," AJ denied putting a hand on the soft shoulder. "We'll just find a safer battlefield."

Abby pulled away from the disturbing touch. "Safer for who?"

"You, Mom, our friends."

"AJ's right," Rick decided, verbally if not physically giving his brother support. "We have too many weaknesses here."

"Where will you go?" Abby's voice broke on the question.

Rick exchanged glances with his brother before replying, "We have a friend who has a cabin up in the hills. It's miles from anywhere."

"What if he can't find you?"

"He found us in a baseball stadium," AJ observed. "He's el Lobo Negro. If there's one thing the bastard knows, it's how to stalk his prey."

* * * *

AJ took a deep breath. In the past, the fresh, clean air of the mountains had been a balm to a body - and soul - that needed a rest. This time it was different. There was nothing relaxing about the visit. Death stalked them, and he wouldn't be satisfied until he claimed a victim.

"I guess it'd be pretty stupid to go to the river and fish," Rick muttered, his agitated pacing making him circle the small cabin.

Turning a page of his book, AJ agreed, "It'd be downright insane."

"We've been stuck here for three days," said Rick, checking his Magnum for the thousandth time. "Why doesn't he make his move?"

AJ closed his book. "He's a smart one; he knows a nervous man can't shoot straight."

Taking a deep breath, Rick dropped down onto the sofa next to his brother. "Maybe he's just giving me the time to say a few things I should've said a long time ago."

"Do you smell something burning?" interrupted AJ, putting a hand on the other man's arm. Rising to his feet, he crossed to the back of the cabin. Even though he was in a hurry, he approached the curtained window with caution. Drawing his gun, he moved the thin material aside. Disbelief coloring his voice, he cried, "The forest is on fire."

"How?" Rick demanded, joining his brother by the window. "We haven't built a fire, and there's been no lightning."

"I'll give you one guess." AJ moved to the table where they had laid their rifles.

Filling his pockets with ammunition, Rick noted, "He'll be waiting for us to come through that door."

AJ coughed as he nodded his head in agreement. The air was already heavy with smoke. "We can either burn to death or go out shooting. Take your choice."

"If we go out shooting there's a chance we can take him with us," Rick grimly pointed out. Crossing to the door, he stood well to the side as he opened it. The hinges squealed as he lifted the latch. He had barely caught a glimpse of blue sky through the opening before automatic gunfire ripped through the wood.

Ducking his head to avoid the flying splinters, AJ shouted, "Can you see where he is?"

"I think he's over by that fallen oak."

"I feel like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," observed AJ.

"They were outnumbered in Bolivia," said Rick, flipping the safety off his rifle. "We have the superior numbers here."

"But he's got the cover," AJ pointed out. "He's not trapped in a cabin that's about to go up in flames."

Another burst of gunfire caused both men to crouch lower. The crackle of burning wood made Rick raise his head. Pointing to a boulder about ten yards away from the cabin, he suggested, "When he's reloading, we might have a chance to make it to some cover ourselves."

"A chance is better than no chance," AJ decided, his watering eyes attempting to focus on the smoldering back wall of the cabin.

Putting the rifle to his shoulder, Rick wrapped the strap around his forearm as he'd been taught in the Marines. "You go first."

A bout of coughing momentarily prevented AJ from replying. As his gaze met his brother's, he swallowed his objections and nodded his head. How much more dangerous would it be going second than first?

Gunfire slammed into the door for a third time reducing it to splinters. The whine of the last bullet was still echoing through the air when Rick cried, "Go!"

AJ's running abilities had been geared more toward endurance than speed. He was almost to the boulder when he felt a burning sensation in his left thigh. Buoyed by the sound of Rick's covering fire, he ignored the pain. Pressing forward, he finally collapsed when he was within the protection of the large rock. Bullets slammed into the ground where he had been only moments before.

Dirt clung to the sweat coating his face. Turning over, AJ gasped in pain. Blood oozed from a gaping hole in his thigh. Tearing the sleeves from his shirt, he pressed them against the wound. Unhooking the strap from his rifle, he used it to keep the compress in place.

Taking deep breaths to control the pain, he glanced back up the track he had run. Flame engulfed the rear portion of the cabin. Praying that Rick hadn't been overcome by smoke, AJ pointed his rifle at the fallen oak and started firing. "Now, Rick!"

Smoke swirled around the body hurtling toward AJ's sanctuary. Sliding into a position beside his brother, Rick demanded, "What took you so long?"

A grimy finger pointed to the blood-caked bandage, "This."

Rick's initial anger quickly evaporated, "How bad is it?"

"How bad does it look?"

"Bad."

"That's how it feels, too," sighed AJ, pulling a magazine from his pocket and reloading his rifle. "Now what do you suggest we do?"

"Could you cover me again?" asked Rick, his eyes searching the surrounding forest.

"Yeah," AJ suspiciously admitted. "What're you planning?"

"I want to try to work my way behind Aguilar. If nothing else, maybe we could get him in a crossfire."

Protest died on AJ's lips. It was the only course of action open to them. "You better hurry, Rick. That fire's spreading fast."

Rick gently squeezed his brother's shoulder before slipping off into the sheltering trees. Raising his rifle, AJ pointed it at the fallen oak and emptied the clip. As he was pulling another from his pocket, a noise stopped him. Lifting his head, he stared into the black eyes of el Lobo Negro.

"We meet again." The thick lips split into a cruel smile.

"Lucky me," muttered AJ, hoping his voice hadn't revealed his fear.

Pulling back the bolt on his semi-automatic, Aguilar asked, "Why did you make it so easy for me by coming out here?"

"Because you don't care who you hurt," AJ explained. "We didn't want anyone else in the line of fire. We never imagined that you would deliberately set a forest fire."

"Underestimating me seems to have been your mistake all along."

Courage deserted AJ. No longer able to look down the barrel of the gun, he raised his eyes to the heavens - only to encounter the fire his adversary had so ruthlessly set. A branch, eaten by flame, broke from a tree. Projecting its course, AJ shouted, "Look out!"

A scornful sneer greeted his warning only seconds before the branch slammed into the ground. Fire quickly ate the intervening space, licking at cotton trousers. Aguilar screamed out in fear and pain as the flames flashed up his legs, enveloping his body.

"AJ?" Rick's frantic cry preceded his return.

"I'm all right!" called AJ, trying to throw dirt on the writhing body. "Aguilar's on fire."

Rick was already pulling off his jacket when he rounded the boulder. Without hesitation, he threw it across the burning flesh. Gagging from the odor, he pounded on the blaze.

Throwing dirt on the last of the flames burning the charred legs, AJ asked, "Is he alive?"

"I don't know," Rick admitted, holding up his badly burned hands. "I can't tell."

His stomach twisting at the sight of his brother's abused flesh, AJ dragged himself over to the blackened head of his adversary. The mouth was moving showing there was still life in the ruined body. Even as he rested his ear almost on top of the blistered lips, AJ knew Aguilar was dying.

"What's he saying?" demanded Rick.

"He says he hasn't lost yet."

"What does he mean by that?"

Indicating the fire that almost surrounded them, AJ interpreted, "I think he means we're destined for the same fate."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," vowed Rick. Hooking his elbow under his brother's arm, he pulled AJ to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

"We can't just leave him," AJ protested, pointing to the burned body.

"He's beyond saving, AJ," Rick gently insisted. "But we're not."

With a rifle as one crutch and his brother's shoulder as the other, AJ limped away from the scene of destruction. The sights and the smells would not be so easy to leave behind. They would live forever in his memory - right beside a dying boy's declaration, "God bless America."

* * * *

AJ's weight was heavy on his arm. Rick desperately rubbed the grit from his tearing eyes with his free hand. Stopping in their descent of the mountain, he looked around. Fire almost encircled them now. It began to look as though they would suffer the same fate as the Black Wolf after all.

"Are you all right, Rick?" AJ's raspy voice was barely audible above the crackling of the blaze.

Shifting his injured brother further up his arm away from his injured hands, Rick said, "I just needed to catch my breath."

"Leave me, Rick." There was little strength in the arms that pushed at the lithe body. "You could make it without me."

"Yeah, right," Rick mumbled, tightening his grip.

A tree crashed off to their left sending sparks flying. Several fell within inches of the two men.

"It'll be too hard on Mom if she loses both of us," AJ desperately argued.

"I can just see Mom at your funeral." Though his voice showed his anger, Rick tenderly brushed a sooty blond lock off his brother's grimy forehead. "I didn't mind losing AJ; I still have Rick."

"I didn't say it would be easy," snapped AJ.

"Easy!" grunted Rick, shaking his head. "This is heaven compared to the hell I'd find if I lived and you died."

"It's a possibility we've always had to a face in our line of work."

"You might've," stated Rick resuming their journey. "I haven't."

Rick almost cried as a rabbit scurried by them, more afraid of the fire than he was of the humans. So many of God's beautiful creatures were suffering because of a madman's vengeance. If only they could have foreseen what he would do.

The sound of an airplane drew his eyes skyward. What he saw made him ease his brother to the ground. Without regard to either of their injuries, he threw himself on top of the smaller man. Moments later, water hit the prone bodies with the force of a baseball bat. Unable to prevent himself, Rick cried out in pain as the liquid force contacted his tender flesh.

Lifting his head, Rick tried to focus his vision. Water dripped from charred branches pointing their way to safety. Excited, he announced, "They cleared a path, AJ."

When there was no response, Rick shifted his gaze to the angelic face that still shone under the grime and bruises. Unable to check for a pulse, he laid a forearm on the still chest. Though slight, there was movement. Gritting his teeth, he slung the unconscious figure across his shoulder. Tears streaked his face as he stumbled forward, a symbol of his pain - and his fear.

* * * *

The car chase came to an abrupt end. His hands swathed in bandages, Rick was dependant on his brother or a passing nurse for his needs - which included operating the TV's remote control. His eyes still glued to the blank screen, he protested, "What's the idea, AJ? I was watching that."

"He's really dead this time, isn't he, Rick?"

Ever since AJ had regained consciousness the day before, something had been haunting him. Finally, Rick knew what it was. "Not to worry, AJ, Aguilar won't rise from these ashes."

"I was wrong once before," said AJ, gripping his blanket so tight his knuckles turned white. "Elena died for my mistake."

Wishing he could ease his brother's tension with a touch, Rick settled for softening his voice. "It wasn't your fault, AJ. You were half-dead yourself that day. Who would've guessed that sadist would be strong enough to survive?"

The swinging door of the hospital room flew open admitting two women. One was short with white hair. The other was statuesque with brown hair and emerald eyes.

"Hello, Mom, Abby," Rick graciously greeted their visitors, giving his brother time to regain his composure.

Crossing to stand between the two beds where she could put a hand on each of her sons' arms, Cecelia smiled, though her tearful gaze showed her real feelings. "You're both looking much better."

"The doctor says you should be able to go home at the end of the week," Abby added. "You'll still need a lot of help though, Rick. Those skin grafts are too new to take a chance with."

Tears rolled down the older woman's cheek. Angrily brushing them away, Cecelia snapped, "You were lucky your hands were all that got burned. Whatever possessed you to hide in Jerry's cabin?"

"We had to go somewhere where he could find us, but where no one else would get hurt," explained AJ. "We never guessed he'd start a forest fire. Was there much damage?"

Abby shook her head, "It wasn't dry, so it didn't spread very quickly."

"By whose standards?" demanded Rick, remembering the flames that singed the clothes on his back.

"Only about ten acres were destroyed before the firefighters got it under control," continued Abby, ignoring the interruption. "That area was due for some controlled burning anyway."

"So the only one who suffered was Aguilar," AJ reasoned, releasing his mother's hand so he could pour himself a glass of water.

"Hoist by his own petard," agreed Abby, moving to the other side of the bed to help the weakened man.

"Hey," Rick protested raising himself up on his elbows, "what are you helping him for? He still has use of his hands."

"Because he knows how to treat a lady," said Abby, smiling engagingly at AJ.

"You're not a woman," Rick cried jealously, focusing on the angelic look on his brother's face, "you're a lieutenant."

Abby raised her eyes to the ceiling in supplication. "I rest my case."


End file.
